


Learning to Love

by llenorion



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Meetings, Gangs, Joseph Rogers is a dick, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Soul mate, bucky and steve are kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llenorion/pseuds/llenorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to "Learning to Live"</p><p>Finding your soul mate doesn't always mean happily ever after. </p><p> </p><p>Told in a series of time stamps taken from key moments in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June 5, 1931 First Touches

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: I rewrote this first chapter cause I didn’t like the way it fit in with the rest of the story I’d planned out. The events in this story will use the backstories from the MCU, Captain America: First Vengeance and the comics, however it will primarily be MCU compliant. Also, I’m changing the dates his parents died as well as the story behind how Steve’s father died for reasons which should become apparent over time.

_“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are.”_

_\----- Richard Bach_

 

June 5, 1931

 

Steve hung his head as he made his way through the busy, dirty streets of Hell’s Kitchen. It was a hot day, and Steve could feel his thin shirt sticking to his small, bony frame. Three days. That's how long his mother had been ill this time. Steve had tried to keep the fever at bay with home remedies, but nothing had worked. She needed medication, but they couldn’t afford it. Even her position as a nurse didn’t provide her with the access she needed. 

 

Steve kicked a rock in frustration. It was his fault. If he hadn’t been so sickly, his mother wouldn’t have had to constantly over work herself. His father had died five years before, good riddance, leaving his mother to have to work to keep the both of them alive. Money had already been tight, but then Steve got scarlet fever. His mother worked as much as she could, saving up as much as she could to get him the medication he needed. Since then, his asthma had gotten worse and his body more susceptible to illness. Steve hated watching his mother work herself to death to keep him alive. He wasn’t worth her killing herself over. 

 

Steve had told her that once, and his mother has scoffed and smacked him over the back of the head, telling him to stop feeling sorry for himself. That it was her job to make sure he was safe no matter what and one day he would understand what it meant to but others before yourself. 

 

_“I don’t want you to die to keep me alive.”_

 

_She chuckled, a light melodic noise. “Oh my baby boy. I don’t want to ever leave you. But if I had to in order to ensure you grew up and had a future? I would lay down my life no question. However, that day is not today and I believe you have chores. Help your poor mother out a little would you?”_

 

His mother was his rock and seeing her so broken and pale in bed was more than he could bear. He needed to help her. They didn’t have any money, but maybe he could get the pharmacist employed by the local sector of the Irish mob a few blocks off to cut him a deal in exchange for the medication. Steve knew that it was stupid to wander into gang territory to try and get their physician to cut him a deal. He had nothing to offer them in exchange except for himself. 

 

As he trudged through the crowded city, Steve brainstormed possible scenarios in which he could walk away from this without leaving his small family in worse shape than before A sudden shout drew him from his reverie. He stood still, ears strained. Looking around, no one else seemed to have heard the shout. Either that or were simply choosing to ignore it in favour of going about their day. Nobody wanted to get involved in fear of interrupting gang business. He heard the shouting again, this time he could make out a second voice pleading. Acting more than thinking, Steve rushed towards the voices. Nearing the entrance of a dark alley, he made out four figures. Steve breathed an inward sigh of relief. There was no gang activity going on; just the local thugs picking on the smaller boys. 

 

Steve had been on the receiving end of attentions of local thugs more than once and had come home with bruised ribs and a bloody face every time. Sometimes, the thugs hadn’t even been after him, but another local boy. Even then, Steve started a fight he knew he would loose. His poor mother could only sigh in frustration each time he walked in the door. He never knew when to walk away from a fight, which resulted in his injuries being worse than they might have been if he’d just let the bullies torment him till they got bored. 

 

Steve prepared himself for the disappointing glances his mother would give him when he got home. She had long since stopped yelling at him when he walked in the door with a new scrape and instead simply grabbed her medical equipment and treated him with a stony silence. In some ways the recent silence was worse than the yelling. Steve hated seeing those who couldn’t defend themselves attacked but still he wished he would just walk away from a fight for his mother. However, then he would hear his father’s voice yelling at him to man up and stop being such a weakling and feel the phantom pains of what it felt like to be the defenceless subject of a ruthless, pitiless attack. 

 

As he drew closer to the commotion he noted that the shouting was coming from a dark haired boy, not much older than Steve, who was being held back by two, short, beefy teens with unwashed hair plastered to their face. The boy was shouting obscenities at the third teen, a tall well-groomed blonde boy whom, with a grin, was raising his fist to strike a pale, pleading, straw haired boy who looked about eight years old. 

 

“You fucker! Leave him alone. You filthy pigs, let me go. Are you such a coward that you need three of you pansies to attack one little kid?” The boy continued to thrash wildly, trying to angle his body in a way that would grant him escape. 

 

The three teens ignored him. The tall boy smirked down at the child. “Now, now little duck. Stay still for me. You don’t want me to get these nice clothes dirty in an unnecessary scuffle?” 

 

The straw-haired boy trembled, gaze fixed on the raised fist. “Pppp.. pplee… please! I’m sooo..sooorr..soorrry!!” tears began streaming down the boy’s chubby, flushed face. 

 

“Hmm… Maybe so. Still, that doesn’t excuse you for running into me and dropping your ice cream on my shoes.” He looked in disdain at his feet. From this angle, Steve could make out a faint pink discolouration on what appeared to be shiny black leather shoes. The teen was too well dressed to be a local thug. Steve had to reassess his earlier conclusion. This teen must belong to one of the local families, making the two other teens his grunts. Steve really knew how to pick his battles. He should walk away. Logically, he knew that was the smart option. Picking a fight with a random teenage thug was one thing. If this boy really belonged to a family, by provoking him, Steve might really end up dead and could kiss any chance of making a deal to save his mother goodbye. 

 

Steve knew all of this. He knew it was stupid and yet he just couldn’t stand by. It was a gut reaction to make a grab for a metal pipe he spotted amongst the trash. He grasped it like a bat, stalking closer to the grunts who were holding back the dark haired boy. What Steve lacked in strength and endurance he’d always managed to make up for in stealth and spryness. The three thugs had yet to notice his appearance, though the dark haired boy had stopped cursing. Steve glanced over at the boy, whose piercing, speculative, blue gaze was fixed on Steve. He froze in place, unsure how to proceed. The boy motioned unobtrusively to the leg of one of his attackers. Steve nodded in understanding. The boy went slack in the two teen’s grips as Steve crept up to land a blow to the back of one of the teen’s legs. 

 

With a groan of pain, the large teen went down clutching his leg, loosing his grip on the dark-haired boy. The boy took the moment of confusion to head-but the other teen in the face. Steve heard a sickening crunch, moving out of the path of the two teens crumpled in pain. Leaving the boy to deal with the two grunts, Steve intercepted the tall teen that had turned his back to the small boy and was drawing a knife. Steve cursed inwardly. How did he not notice that? He was still armed with his pipe, but wasn’t sure what good that would do against the stronger teen and his knife. If he died, his mother was going to kill him. 

 

Well. It was too late to run away now. Steeling himself and refusing to back down, Steve gestured at the small boy to flee. “Come on! Get out of here. I’ll take care of this.” He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice and project a confidence and strength he didn’t feel. 

 

The older teen threw his head back and laughed. For such a handsome boy, it was an ugly laugh. “You’ve got guts kid. Your brave, a total idiot but brave.” The boy circled Steve like a Lion stalking its prey. “Maybe I’ll take you home and keep you for sport. It would be fun to watch you break.” The teen gave him a chilling smirk and assessing gaze. Steve felt ice in his veins. He was in trouble. What was wrong with this guy? 

 

The trembling boy looked between the two of them in their stalemate, before seizing the moment and scattering. The other teen shot Steve a petulant look. “Now look what you’ve done.” He let out an aggrieved sigh. “I didn’t get to pay him back for damaging my new shoes. I guess I’ll have to take that out on you. Shame, I was looking forward to breaking you.” The teen hummed to himself, seeing to roll something over in his mind. Steve needed to find a way out of this. He gripped the pipe in his hands harder. Maybe.. maybe if the teen came after him he would be able to dodge and hit the arm holding the knife hard enough to knock it out of the thugs grip. With any luck it would buy him time to run. 

 

He had only a brief moment to acknowledge the knife coming towards him, only barely managing to dodge the swipe. He swung with the pipe but missed. A hand clutched his throat and pinned him against the brick wall of the alley.

 

“Now. Hold still. I don’t like a mess when I have my fun.” Struggling to breathe, Steve felt the tip of the knife pressed against his stomach through his thin shirt. Dark, maniacal eyes glinting in pleasure bore into him. This was the end. After all his mother sacrificed, he was going to get himself killed because he couldn’t walk away from a fight he knew he was going to loose. He could hear his father’s laughter in the back of his mind and reminding him how useless he was. He couldn’t even swing a pipe right. 

 

“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you just yet. Can’t rush a good thing can we? Anything you want to say little duck before we get started?” The tone was calm and amused. The saying was true. You really can’t judge a book by its cover. This handsome teen looked like someone you’d find in Hollywood, not getting off on torturing kids in a dank alley. 

 

Steve opened his mouth to respond. With what he wasn’t entirely sure; probably something confrontational and stupid knowing him. 

 

“I’ve got something to say.” The voice was hard as steel. 

 

Suddenly the blonde teen dropped like a sack, blood pooling from an injury to the back of his head. In shock, Steve’s gaze went back and forth between the teen at his feet and the dark-haired boy tossing a bloody rock over his shoulder. 

 

“I can’t decide if your brave or just plain stupid.” The other boy was huffing, a light sheen of sweat on his skin and an expression marring his face that was a cross between worried and unimpressed.

 

Steve bristled at the statement, never mind that he’d been thinking his actions fell among the latter rather spectacularly. Forcing out a response was difficult, throat sore and voice croaky from being crushed against the wall. “You should thank me for getting you away from those two thugs and saving the boy from getting pummelled, not lecturing me.” Steve was indignant, light blue eyes glaring up at the slightly older boy. 

 

The boy snorted. “Stupid then. Only someone stupidly arrogant could walk into a fight he had no way of winning and then act like the hero when he got saved from being knifed. Your welcome for that by the way.” Any comeback Steve had stuck in his throat as his face flushed hotly. Any pointless argument driven from his mind at the remembrance of the knife against his skin and how close he had really come to death. 

 

“Sorry. Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

 

“Don’t mention it.” The boy waved his hand, shaking his head. “I wasn’t any better. By the way,” The boy stuck out his hand, “The name’s Bucky.”

 

Steve stared at the hand, emotions in turmoil, body still shaking from adrenaline. “Bucky? What the hell kind of name is Bucky?” Steve wanted to smack himself the moment the words were out. The boy, Bucky, bristled in annoyance, retracting his hand to cross his arms across his chest. 

  
“If you must know, you brat, its short for James Buchanan Barnes. But I like Bucky. Got a problem with it?” Steve was on the receiving end of a piercing blue challenging glare. 

 

Steve really knew how to put his foot in his mouth sometimes. He stuck his shaking hand out the way Bucky had moments before. “Sorry. My mouth gets away from me sometimes. I like it. My name is Steve.” Bucky stared at the hand suspiciously for a moment before clasping Steve’s shaking hand firmly. It was warm and calloused. He was apparently used to getting in fights and working with his hands. Oddly, Steve felt himself calm at the touch, and found himself grinning softly at the taller boy, whose irritated expression morphed into one of contemplation. 

 

Steve wasn’t sure how long they grasped each other’s hands, each measuring the other with their gaze. The intense blue of Bucky’s eyes was starting to make his skin itch and stomach flip. He needed to get out of here. “Um…” He averted his gaze to glance down at the crumpled figure at his feet, “Maybe we should leave?” 

 

“Oh.” Bucky looked surprised, like he had genuinely forgot there was some sort of sadist at their feet whom he had just hit in the back of the head with a rock. “Is he still alive?” Steve queried. Part of him hoped he wasn’t but he also didn’t want this boy, Bucky, to go to prison or have the heat of whatever crime family the sadist belonged too on his tail. Dropping his hand, and Steve really didn’t want to think about how calming that touch had been, Bucky crouched down and pressed his fingers against the blonde’s throat.  


“He’ll be fine unfortunately. He’s just knocked out, same as his comrades back there. We should probably still make a run for it before they wake up.”

 

They quickly made their way to the mouth of the alley. They both paused briefly, unsure how to proceed. Steve wasn’t sure what the protocol was for dealing with this situation. They stood, staring awkwardly at each other. Bucky broke the silence, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well. I’m going this way. See you around moron. Try not to get into another fight on the way home.” Bucky turned to walk away. 

 

“Hey! Wait.” Bucky paused, blue eyes piercing him with a curious gaze over his shoulder.   
  
“Listen. Thank you again for your help. I know its stupid to get into fights but I can’t help it sometimes. I just don’t like bullies. I don’t care who or what they are and i’m not going to let them push people around.” Steve tried to look imposing, which was hard to do when you were a five-foot, ninety pound kid who was all skin and bones. 

 

Bucky laughed, a warm rough chuckle that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I like you kid. You’re a punk like me, even if I do think your nine kinds of stupid for getting into fights your never gonna win. I hope I see you again when i’m not saving your scrawny ass. There’s something about you.” His lips quirked into a a pensive half smile and walked off, hands tucked into his pockets. 

 

“Jerk.” Steve muttered to himself. Steve stared after him, unsure what to make of this strange boy. He was callous yet there was something about him, something that intrigued him. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and walked aimlessly in the opposite direction. The hand he had shaken Bucky’s hand with was still warm. He forced himself to put the thought and encounter aside. He needed to focus on his mother, not some strange boy he met during a fight. The pharmacist was no longer an option. He didn’t know what family the teen had belonged too but couldn’t risk news getting back that he’d been involved in the altercation. If making himself known and at the mercy at any of the families had been risky before, it would be almost suicidal now. He needed a new plan. With that in mind he tried to formulate more ways in which he could get the medication, pushing all thoughts of warm hands, quirked grins and piercing eyes to the back of his mind. 

 


	2. White Light

June 8, 1931:

 

Ever since he could remember, his parents, whom were Irish immigrants, had tried to instil in him the importance of attending mass and how to behave like a proper Irish Catholic. Steve had never missed a mass except for when he was ill and carried a strong belief in the existence of God and the virtues he was taught to espouse. As such, he harboured a strong distaste for people like his father who would come to mass on Sundays and present themselves as god fearing men only to go home and break every moral code they were taught to uphold every week. 

 

Steve always thought it was ironic and hypocritical how his father would present himself as a war hero, pious, and loving husband and father to the congregation they had previously attended when he knew the real monster that came out behind closed doors. In the last few years, the sermons he listened to every week about morality and having faith seemed empty when he knew the darkness that existed in the people in that very room, even within himself to a degree. Even more so as no miracles had ever come his way before and he had been half convinced every time his father had a drink that God didn’t care anymore about what happened to humanity. Steve still wasn’t sure he believed in miracles or that God ever intervened.

 

As long as you lived a good, moral life and tried to do good that was enough for Steve. However, in this moment, he couldn’t pray harder for a miracle from the God his mother had so much faith in and love for. If anyone deserved saving it was his mother. Steve had saved her from his father’s abuse and he would save her from this. Somehow. Steve choked back a sob, tears pooling in his eyes as he desperately clung to his mother’s rosary, nails biting into skin. He ignored the sermon as he prayed for a God he wasn’t sure was listening to spare his mother, even if it meant trading places. He sat like that for an unknown amount of time, lost in his pleading for a miracle and for hope amidst the darkness he saw no end to. 

 

The last few days had made the future seem empty and hopeless. He’d been able to get a doctor from the clinic his mother worked at to come by and look at her. It took laying on the tears and the begging a little thick to get the stoic and unsympathetic Dr. Sprig to come and make a diagnosis. Pneumonia. She had pneumonia and would likely be dead within the month. It had started as just a little cough that hadn’t been treated and exacerbated by the long hours his mother, Sarah, was working. Dr. Sprig had noted that it was a miracle Steve himself hadn’t caught it given his frail system. Steve had begged the doctor to give her the medication she needed but to no avail. It was too late to give her the medication that might have helped her early on, and any intensive treatment would cost more than they could pay back, even if the doctor cut them a deal. Steve had already screwed up his chance of getting the medication under the table by getting involved in that fight the other day. All he could do was make her comfortable and ease her pain. Lost in thought, Steve didn’t notice someone approaching him until he felt a sharp smack on his back that was probably meant to be friendly but rattled Steve’s small frame.

 

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here.” 

 

Steve jerked in shock to look up at the quirked grin and piercing blue eyes of Bucky Barnes. What was he doing here? Before he could ask, the lithe teen plopped into the pew next to him, elbows perched on the top of the pew, a picture of ease and relaxation. The total opposite of Steve in that moment. Bucky was clothed in his Sunday best, a contrast to Steve’s baggy and frayed shirt and trousers, with a heavy metal cross hanging around his neck that Steve didn’t remember him having when they first met. He couldn’t help but feel measured and found wanting when sitting next to this lively boy with clean clothes, cheeky grin, and practically visible energy thrumming under his skin. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. In that moment Steve envied him more than anything.

 

“Hey….” Steve wasn’t sure how to respond. He rubbed his face with his shirt sleeve to remove traces of tears before Bucky saw but judging by the look on his face, Bucky had already noticed. 

 

“You ok? You seemed a bit lost in thought so I thought I’d come over and say hi. You know mass is over right? Hope your punk ass hasn’t been in any more fights since last I saw ya.…” Bucky frowned in concern at the sight of Steve’s puffy eyes and flushed face. He grabbed Steve’s chin and angled his face to try and get a look at any mark that he’d been in a fight. The weird calm from the last time they touched came over him and Steve couldn’t help the huff of laughter at the odd situation. “I wish. Things would be so much simpler if that was all it was.” Steve tried not to lean into the lingering touch. 

 

“Yea? What’s up?” Bucky dropped his hand to Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

 

“You don’t want to listen to this. We barely know each other. Shouldn’t you be off with your parents anyway? Speaking of.. I don’t remember seeing you around here before.” Steve tried to divert the conversation away from himself, and he was honestly curious about the other boy’s presence. 

 

“Oh! Well…” Bucky ducked his head, a light flush coming over his face. “I’m not actually Catholic. Not really. My mom is but my dad’s protestant. They’re having this weird custody thing going on right now and since it’s my mom’s weekend she wanted to finally, how did she put it, “save my soul from that new age nonsense your father forces on you.” She’s a bit old fashioned, but she’s great really. She’s the one up there talking to the priest.” Bucky nodded his head in the direction of a tall willowy woman with dark hair like Bucky’s artfully curled in the latest style under a white hat. She was dressed in a light blue, calf-length dress with a white collar and gloves. She was gesturing wildly to the long-suffering priest, clearly impassioned about whatever topic they were talking about. 

 

“Oh. Well… She’s quite lovely.” Steve tried to ignore the pang that his own mother wasn’t there. “Thanks. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas about making moves on my mom though punk. She may be a single lady but she is way too good for you.” Bucky elbowed him lightly in the side, smirk playing on his full lips. Steve blushed and turned away, forcing out a laugh. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be noticing anything about his _full lips._ For goodness sakes they were in a church. Why was this boy having such an affect on him? It must be the attention. Steve wasn’t used to anyone wanting to have anything to do with a scrawny nobody and this boy had the kind of charisma and charm that drew people in. Steve couldn’t help but feel a bit special at having all that directed at him, regardless of the reason. Not to mention the boy had a calming grip. Whenever Bucky touched him, Steve felt as though anything was possible. While a bit weird, it was also a bit addicting in his current state. 

 

“Don’t worry,” he finally responded, “I’m sure your mother is lovely, but I like my dance partners a bit closer to my own age.” 

  
“Oh yea? Got any in mind?” Bucky shot him a smarmy grin.

 

An unbidden impulse of _you, just you_ ripped through him. Steve clamped that down fast. Besides being against everything he’d been taught, he barely knew this boy. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Steve was starting to feel a bit dizzy and overwhelmed. How could he bolt without seeming suspicious? “No. Not really. None of the girls really want to do a spin with someone who might have an asthma attack in the middle of it.”

 

“Oh nonsense. Your just not looking hard enough. I’ll find you someone. In fact…” There was a gleam in Bucky’s eye that Steve wasn’t sure he liked. “My mom is having all the neighbours over for a Sunday luncheon and there are some cute girls that’ll probably be there. You should come. I’m making it my mission to find the right partner for you.” 

 

“Oh! Well..” Steve was thrown and unsure how to reply. “I should really get going. My mom isn’t feeling well and I need to go home and help out with things.” He tried to run off before Bucky could invite him over again but the strong hand he’d forgotten was on his shoulder lightly pushed him back in his seat. 

 

“Hey… look.” Bucky dropped the charm and grabbed Steve’s hands, which were still clenching his mother’s rosary. His eyes were open, pleading and earnest in a way that no thirteen year old boy’s eyes should be with someone they just met. “I know we don’t know each other really apart from the whole me saving your ass thing….”

 

“Language!” The word came out quiet and unbidden. Steve wasn’t even sure where that came from. Bucky startled at the odd interruption, laughing slightly. “Um. Ok. Sorry pal, saving your _butt._ That better?” Steve flushed hotly and gestured for Bucky to continue speaking. 

 

“Alright then. Should have figured you’d be a bit more moral than me. The point I was going to make was that you look like hell…” Steve glared at him. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, it’s true. You’ve obviously got a lot going on and I’m just trying to be a friend. Give you a distraction. Look… Steve,” It was the first time Bucky had called him by his name. “This is gonna sound super weird, but… there’s something about you that makes me want to make you happy and…” Bucky stopped short, suddenly unsure how he wanted to proceed. “I just..” 

 

“Just what?” He wasn’t sure what this was and he didn’t want pity if that’s what he was being offered. “Look, I’m not a kid. I don’t need someone to hold my hand through the big, dark, scary world.” He really, really did. “I appreciate it, really I do, but I need to go home and clean, make some food, if we still have food, and d…” 

 

“Two hours.” Bucky interrupted him just as he was gaining momentum. 

  
“What? Two hours?” It was an odd interjection.

 

“Just come over for two hours. Let me distract you. My mom would be happy to give you some food to take home for you and your mom. Heck, she’d probably swat me if I didn’t offer it. We always have extra anyway when we have Sunday potlucks. Besides, I could use the company. Consider it a mutually beneficial arrangement if you have to. Please?” Bucky was attempting a teasing grin, but it fell flat at the odd twinge of longing Steve noted in his gaze. It was the please combined with that earnest look that sealed the deal for Steve. He was saying yes before he had even thought to answer. Bucky grinned, and dragged him over towards his mother. Two hours. He felt selfish going off to a party when his mother was lying home sick, needing him. Heartless for forgoing two precious hours that he could be spending with his mother that he could never get back. Yet when this boy grabbed his hand and tried to cheer him up he felt, for the first time in days, like everything would be okay. He just needed to feel that for a little bit longer before he had to go home and face the reality that his mother would be gone by the end of the month. 

 

________________________________

 

June 29, 1931:

 

He hadn’t even had a month with her. Steve was beyond tears as he stared at the tombstone for Sarah Rogers. It was a simple headstone with an inscription from one of her favourite versus and the customary _loving mother, loving wife_ bit. He snorted in irony at the last bit, disgusted that, despite his efforts, his mother had been buried next to his father. He had hoped his mother would be able to go a little longer without being anywhere near that man again. Now his mother was in heaven and he could only pray she was safe.  

 

Part of him was waiting for someone to come out of nowhere and tell him it was all just a big joke and none of it was real and how silly he was for falling for such a cruel joke. No such words came. He’d been standing here for hours praying and watering the grass with his tears, yet no such miracle occurred. Her last words to him played over and over on repeat as he stared at the tombstone. 

 

She had been so pale in those final moments. She had been lying reclined on a pile of pillows to keep her comfortable, pale blond hair like his plaited into a braid over her shoulder. Steve had sat perched on the side of her bed, trying to keep her cool with a wet cloth. In the background Bucky was running around trying to make her a broth. _I’m going to be leaving soon baby._ Her voice had been weak and hands shaky as she tried to hold his hand. Steve had tried to assure her that she was ok. Somehow she would get better. After all, he had prayed and she had always told him that if he prayed everything would work out. Steve hadn’t actually believed what he was saying but he had needed his mother to have hope. Nothing else had worked so far, so maybe they had just needed a little hope. _Your a good boy Steve. I need you to keep that goodness inside of you. You’ve had a hard life, and I’m so sorry to leave you so soon. Life is never what we expect it to be, but that goodness will protect you and keep you strong. Promise me you will stay safe and never stop fighting to keep that light alive in the world. Everyone could use a bit more of your strength. I love you my dear boy._ Not long after, he had felt her hand go slack in his grip.In that moment Steve knew he wasn’t strong. He was weak. The only thing that had kept him from going over the edge had been Bucky’s firm, grounding grip as the sobs had wracked his frail body. 

 

Bucky had been like a light in a sea storm during the past few weeks. That two hour potluck had turned into daily hangouts, mostly at Steve’s tiny apartment where he could watch over his mother, and sleepovers where they used the cushions from the couch to make forts and pretend like they were in foreign land. It’d been the child like excitement he’d needed to distract him from the very adult trauma that was occurring in his life. Bucky had become a close friend quite quickly, never hesitating at the prospect of befriending a boy with a dead father, a dying mother, and the likelihood that Steve’s own body was frail and could fail from any passing disease. Bucky had fit snugly into his life as if he’d always been there and always would be. He had wanted to be here today but Steve had needed to do this alone.

 

Steve’s mother had liked him and before she died had made the point to tell Steve to keep Bucky close for as long as he could. She wouldn’t have minded Bucky attending her funeral but Steve needed to do say goodbye alone. His mother told him to be strong and he would try to do this alone without relying on others for help to get him through it. Tomorrow he would be moved to the eighth avenue orphanage for the five years till he turned eighteen. Today was the last moment to hang on to what was left of his life with his mother and he would draw that moment out for as long as he could. 

 

It was only when the sun started to go down that he said his last goodbyes and trekked back to his apartment for the final time. As he drew closer to the apartment, he wasn’t surprised to see Bucky sitting on the stoop, dark hair slicked back and his arms tucked into the thin jacket that was doing little to keep out the chill in the air. What did surprise him was the overwhelming relief at seeing his new friend and at the realisation that he wouldn’t be alone. The second Bucky spotted him, he jumped up, a tentative smile on his lips. When Steve walked past him to head up the short flight of stairs, hands searching his pockets for the key he was sure were in there, Bucky’s arms made an aborted movement like he wanted to try and hug Steve but wasn’t sure how it would be received. Steve almost wished he had. He really could’ve used a hug in that moment. 

 

“I would have come.”

 

“Kinda wanted to be alone.”

 

“How was it?” 

 

There was a long pause. “It was ok. She’s next to dad.” He tried not to sound bitter about that last part. Bucky didn’t know about Steve’s father and how he liked to get rough when he drank a little too much.Steve never wanted anyone to know. Instead, he’d told him the rehearsed story that Joseph Rogers had died from mustard gas in WWI and Steve had never known the guy. 

 

Bucky nodded slightly. “I was gonna ask….”

 

Steve cut him off, brushing the hair out of his face. “I know what you’re gonna say Bucky.” He stopped in front of his door. He still couldn’t find the stupid key. 

 

“We can just put the couch cushions on the floor like before. It’ll be fine all you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash.” Bucky quipped, nudging the rock that hid the spare key out of the way and handing it to him. He had spent way too much time here in the past month, Steve couldn’t help but notice. 

 

“Come on….” Bucky tried to seem aloof about the whole thing but Steve could tell he was worried about him and wanted to keep him close by to make sure he wouldn’t do something stupid. 

 

Steve knew Bucky was just trying to help, but he couldn’t impose on Ms. Barnes like that. Bucky’s parents were separated and Bucky currently lived with his mother most times with his father getting every other weekend. Ms. Barnes did quite well for being a single mother, but could hardly take on another teenager. 

 

“Thank you, Buck… but I can get by on my own.” He stood his ground, chin lifted as he tried to give the impression of strength. He didn’t want Bucky to worry. 

 

“Thing is…” Bucky trailed off, breaking Steve’s gaze for a moment shaking his head, “You don’t have too.” His voice was quiet. Earnest. Bucky clenched his shoulder in the same comfortable way Steve was fast becoming used to. The gesture loosened something free inside him. Bucky caught his gaze, “I’m with you till the end of the line, pal.” The fierce protectiveness in his gaze and the weight of that promise after he had just buried his mother was a bit much and Steve had to look away for a moment before he could muster up a slight smile at his friend. He was feeling too much. Anger, sadness, denial… it was like he was experiencing all five stages of grief over and over again within moments. Yet… with this kid in front of him who had quite literally saved his life a few weeks ago, Steve felt for the first time since his mom died that there might be a light beyond the pain he was feeling. It was a confusing feeling and perhaps way too much faith to put into a friendship that was so new but when Steve looked at Bucky he started to feel like he could be strong. That was good enough for now. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his life but Bucky would still be there. Right now, that was all Steve really needed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter took ages to get too. I rewrote the first chapter a bit as well. I'm in the middle of writing my insanely long dissertation for my masters so I'm not sure how long it will be before the next update. Though, to be honest, writing this will probably be my distraction from writing my paper so that update could be sooner than later.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts of the story so far below! :D

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before "Learning to Live". It will hopefully cover everything leading up to the end of the first film. I'm also working on an idea for a sequel to "Learning to Live"


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